Here at the world's end the cold winds are beginning to blow. What messages <br />have you for me, my master? When will the poor wandering goose arrive? The <br />rivers and lakes are swollen with autumn's waters. Art detests a too successful <br />life; and the hungry goblins await you with welcoming jaws. You had better have <br />a word with the ghost of that other wronged poet. Drop some verses into the <br />Mi-lo as an offering to him!<br /><br />Tu Fu<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/thoughts-of-li-po-from-the-world-s-end/
